The Masked Captain
by DJ Husky
Summary: Coming back on ship from Spence Academy, Christine dreads coming home to the unwanted attention from a stubborn baron. But when her ship gets attacked by the infamous Captain Erik Guerrier's crew, will she realise her blessing in disguise?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey guys and welcome to my first fanfic! yeah, remember your first time? i bet you weren't as clueless as i am, so apologies if it takes a while for me to update. still a few more weeks of school and learning the ropes of ff but after that, i will rule the world! nah, just kidding.

Anyway, to save myself from saying this over and over: I do not and will never own Phantom of the Opera, it's awesome characters, storyline or anything else. I do however call dibs on this plot and a few original characters (Dr. T. Copper and possibly a few more along the way...) but look out for some movie/musical/book references. I don't own those either. And I don't own Spence Academy or Gemma Doyle or the surname I use for Erik (Guerrier)

* * *

Chapter 1

Christine shook her head exasperatedly as she shifted through the stack of the Baron Louis d'Etienne's sickeningly sweet, "charming" letters.

The Baron was a very good looking, young, successful aristocrat who'd had his fair share of women and still could get any woman he wanted.

It was just her misfortune that she was that new woman.

Because of his near-undetectable arrogant air, womanizing reputation and slave trading rumours from the black market that she heard from trusty sources, she refused his offer of courtship about a year ago.  
She thought that would've been the last she'd heard of him and he'd get bored of her shutting him out, but she was wrong.

She had been away at Spence Academy, England, for most of the year, patiently enduring the lessons of etiquette, art and languages that she excelled at with her eyes closed, and at least once every month the Baron had written to her and she grudgingly wrote back.  
She put in enough hints that she wasn't interested but either the man was blind or ignoring her.  
She even stayed at her friend Gemma Doyle's manor at Christmas since she knew he would pounce the second she stepped back onto American soil.

Her refusal must have wounded his bloated pride and he seemed to have set himself the task of pestering her until she accepted his suit.

"Well good luck with that," she smirked, stuffing the letters into the lantern that hung outside her cabin and watching as they burned.

She sighed.

It had been an agonizingly long few weeks at sea with no one but her chaperone Mrs. Brown and occasionally the cabin boy, Tom, to talk to.  
She was torn between wanting to be home already and dreading the Baron's greeting so she decided she might as well be content with the now.

She was just so bored.

She loved Mrs. Brown as she was infinitely kind and comforting but she soon grew restless and their hours were often filled with comfortable silence.  
And though 12-year-old Tom was fun to talk to, he was always busy with chores and slept whenever he had free time.  
The captain was a slightly eccentric old sailor who communicated via incoherent grunts and mumbles and the rest of the crew were either superstitious cynics who avoided her and Mrs. Brown like the plague because "it's bad luck 'avin a woman on er ship" or perverted scoundrels who were the reason she kept a letter opener in her bodice.

"Miss Daaé? What are you doing?"

Her head snapped to the voice and she smiled.

"Oh, nothing, Mrs. Brown," she said, glancing at the now ash-filled lantern.  
"Hmm," said her chaperone, eyeing her sceptically. "I'll take that as 'Oh don't worry, I haven't killed anyone, Mrs. Brown.'"  
"I disposed of the bodies this time."  
"But you did it the American way."  
" 'The American way'? And what way is that?"  
"Shooting the brains out of someone, throwing the body away but forgetting to clean up the scene of the crime."  
"Hmph. As if your English ways are better."  
"It is. I only need talk of which of which piece of cutlery to use with which dish and-"  
"No!" Christine cried. "I've had enough of that talk in Spence! Lord, spare me this completely superfluous torture, please!"  
"All right, all right, into the cabin now, missy. Tom'll bring up supper in a few minutes."  
"With only a knife and fork?"  
"Why spoil the surprise?"  
"Why not say?"  
"Does a grown woman have to have reasons for everything?"  
"How long will you be able to answer in questions?"  
"How old is my grandmother?"  
"How am I meant to know?"  
"Ladies?"

They both turned to the boy at the doorway.

"Yes?" they said simultaneously and then laughed.

The boy, Tom, looked at them curiously, shook his head then placed their food on the table, setting the cutlery as he went.  
"Thank you very much, Tom," Christine smiled, brushing her brown hair from her face as she sat down. "Come, join us."  
"Yes, do," Mrs. Brown said, cutting the meat. "You work too hard with too little rest."  
The boy smiled tiredly. "Believe me, ma'am, I'd love to join you but I still got a few chores that I wan' 'o finish early so it be a good long nights' sleep for me."  
"Hmm." Christine frowned as she ate. "I'll have to talk to your captain about the way you're treated."  
"No, I'm flattered, miss, but really, it's no' a problem."  
"How many hours are you sleeping ?"  
"Errr, an hour or two before 'o crack o' dawn..."  
"I rest my case."

"But Miss Christine-"

"WE'RE BEING ATTACKED! GET YOUR SWORDS AND RIFLES YA BUNCH OF SCUM, GO!"

They gasped, heads turning, too shocked to do anything but watch figures rush about outside their door.

Between the nearly closed curtains, Christine saw the mast and sails of another ship and people swinging on ropes onto their deck.

Then she saw a flash of white cut through the chaos like a beacon, but swiftly disappeared.

She snapped out of her reverie, jumping up and grabbing anything she put her hands on.

Tom ran and closed the curtains, locked the doors and turned to run back to them when a shot rang out; simultaneously the shattering of glass stopped them in their tracks.

Both women looked at the boy; Tom looked down at his dirty shirt, slowly turning crimson at the chest, fell flat on his front and was still.

Before they could react, the cabin door cracked open and a dark figure stood there, the lanterns flanking the doorway illuminating a plump, spectacled but otherwise kind face.

Christine swallowed her fear and said, clutching Mrs. Brown's hand firmly, "Who are you?"

The man cocked his head and smiled gently.

"Evening, ladies," he said warmly. Christine relaxed slightly at his tone.

Maybe this man was sent by the captain to take them to some safe hidden cupboard or something.

The man bowed. "I am Dr. T. Copper, but Cop will do."

Christine ran to him, pointing frantically at Tom's bloodied form.  
"Then you must help him, sir! He could still be saved!"  
The doctor knelt down, examining the boy's wound, then shaking his head and taking rope from his coat.  
"I'm afraid it's too late, miss," he said, standing and looping one end of the rope.

"W-what's the rope for?"  
He looked up and smiled apologetically.

"This."

So quickly Christine didn't even realise it, he circled her wrist with the looped end of the rope, yanked the other around her back and secured them both tightly.

Mrs. Brown screamed and went to throw something but the man raised a pistol and she froze.

"Come peacefully, madam, I hate resorting to murder. Oy, captives here!"

Figures jumped from the open doorway and bound the shocked woman before dragging her out.

Dr. Copper turned Christine's chin from her chaperone and inspected her face and nodding in approval.

"Pretty thing you are, aren't you? Come on, time to meet the Captain."

She jerked her face away and tried to kick him but she found herself looking into the barrel of his pistol.  
"Come on, miss, I'll ask one more time. Onto the deck now, dear."

Christine sighed and did as she was told, very much aware of the gun pressed to her back and the rough cords binding her wrists.

She stepped out of her cabin and was met with three images that would forever stick in her mind.

Firstly, the whole crew of her ship were just a mass of blood and gore, their mouths still open in shock and pain.

Secondly, the sea of faces that stood above the defeated looking at her with avid interest.

She shuddered.

And thirdly, the bright white of a leather mask covering the upper right half of a terrifying man's face as he stared at her with intense silver eyes.

* * *

How'd it go? Please review!

m


	2. Chapter 2

____________

Hey guys! Sorry for the delay, i know what's going to happen in the story but i'm making it up as i go along so please bear with me. And thanks for the reviews! Special shout out to green eyed owl who is my first ever reviewer! You rock! Two of you guys mentioned that i went a bit too fast in the first chapter and if you read on, you'll see why, hopefully.

Oh, and housepoints to anyone who spots the harry potter movie reference ;D

Again, i don't own POTO or any of it's characters but i forgot to mention, i do own Mrs. Brown and Baron Louis d'Etienne

* * *

Chapter 2

"_There it is," Erik murmured, peering at the elegant merchant ship through his telescope._

His ship, the Garnier_, was near-invisible to the other due to its pitch black body and sail, the darkness of the night camouflaging them in the murky waves._

If his calculations were right and the moon remained hidden in the clouds just a little bit longer, they would remain unseen until the other ship was close enough to jump onto...

He had to admit, his plan was foolproof; with his disciplined crew they'd yet to fail since the first time they did it a few years ago.

It only worked in the night but involved the most discreet and efficient half of his crew swimming up to the enemy ship while the rest of the crew, including him,  
steadily got closer.  
The swimmers would climb into the ship, kill as many as they could from the inside out until the rest came to finish the job.

Silence and speed were the keys and often it was only the poor Captain of the other ship and the men patrolling the decks left, completely unaware of their already murdered comrades, so it was a quick, unfair death.

He smirked. He was _a pirate._

Soon they were close enough so he could see, without a telescope, the looks of surprise and pain on the other crew's faces through the portholes as his men went on with the slaughter.  
On deck, he could see a few men scrubbing the floor, too engrossed in their work to notice another ship looming painfully close. More men were sitting, relaxed and chatting away. A grey-haired man was on the prow playing a melancholy tune on his fife.

At the door of the upper cabin, he could see two women talking- both dark haired but one was smaller, slightly plump and older while the other was the opposite.

Before he could look closer they went inside their cabin, followed close after by a young boy holding trays of food.  
"Too bad they won't be able to enjoy it," he smirked.

_But the smirk quickly disappeared when the moon came out of hiding and exposed them._

The old man's head whipped round the same time Erik's crew jumped up from inside the ship.

The old man snapped into action, drawing his pistol and yelling, "WE'RE BEING ATTACKED! GET YOUR SWORDS AND RIFLES YA BUNCH OF SCUM, GO!"

Quickly Erik and the rest of his waiting crew climbed up the rigging and swung over onto the enemy deck, a resounding crash _coming as a sturdy wooden plank was placed between the ships as a bridge for his less nimble men._

He landed sure on his feet but momentarily staggered back as the old man bashed his pistol across his head.

He touched his face.

Good, the mask was still on.

He turned back to the old man just as he was pointing the gun at his chest; he knocked his wrist away as it went off, smashing glass somewhere, and he quickly reached for his Punjab lasso and snapped the man's scraggly neck before he could do further damage.

"Doctor!" he cried and a plump man appeared seemingly from nowhere.

The contrast of his kind face was almost comical against the violence happening around them.

"The cabin!" Erik said, jerking his head in that direction and flicked his hand so the dead man's corpse shielded him from an oncoming sword thrust.

The young man holding the sword stared at him, terrified, and he smiled.

He swiftly lengthened his lasso, wrapped it around the young man's neck and twisted until he heard that satisfying crack.

He let the two bodies drop; around him the battle was won and his crew stood satisfied above the fallen.

The doctor shouted from the cabin; two of his men ran in and dragged the plump, older woman he'd seen earlier, now bound with her hands behind her.

Moments later the younger woman stepped out of the cabin, the doctor pressing a gun into her back.

His breath caught.

She was possibly the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

* * *

The masked man looked her up and down, making her blush furiously.

The man smirked.

"Well, gents," he said in a velvet voice. "Where are your manners? Bow to the ladies."

They all guffawed and bowed deeply, whistling and whooping and giving her suggestive gestures.

"Good work, doctor," the man went on.

Dr. Copper nodded and pushed her forward.

"Thank you Cap'n. As far as I know, no one is left."  
" 'As far as you know'? Have you checked?"  
"Err...no..."  
"Well then, go check. Chagny! Rock! Go with him."

A fair young man and a rough looking brute with an eye patch followed Copper into the ship; the brute ignored her but the young man smiled kindly.

She instinctively started to smile back but then he remembered what he was.

A calloused hand suddenly turned her face and she found herself staring into shining silver eyes.

"My, my, what a beauty," the Captain smirked, taking in the sight of her delicate features, clear brown eyes and now mussed-up curly russet hair.  
The annoyance in her demeanour brought fire into her aura, enhancing her radiance.

"Get your hands off me," she hissed, trying to jerk away but he held her chin firmly.

"I...understand we've started on the, ahem, wrong foot, shall we say?"

His crew laughed as he kept that confounded smirk on his face.

"Let me introduce myself," he went on.

He stepped back, spreading his arms like a showman and his crew knelt on their knees in mock reverence.

"Captain Erik Jacoby William Samuel Brian-" he smiled and his crew sniggered "-Guerrier."

Christine's eyes widened in fear at the sound of his surname.

She'd heard from her brother and friends in the Royal Navy near-horror stories of the Guerrier Pirate Family and how their cruelty and cunning was famed even in the 13th century.

Only now did she realise the full extent of her dilemma.

She laughed.

The smirk faltered at the sound and she laughed again.

It wasn't funny at all but she laughed.

"And what, my dear, is so funny?" Erik snarled.

Christine giggled.

"I don't know," she said. "It's like something from a book isn't it? I'm coming home from Spence, then captured and could get killed by pirates captained by a lunatic in mask-"

A sudden wrenching pain around her neck choked her violently.

Erik held the other end of the Punjab lasso.

He sneered at her terrified expression.

"Your hand at the level of your eyes, mademoiselle," he whispered, making her break out in cold sweat.

He tugged and she gasped.

"No!" Mrs. Brown cried. "Let her go, please!"

"Shut it, woman," Erik growled.

He twitched the rope and Christine collapsed; he caught her before she fell, took the rope from her neck and slung her over his shoulder.

"NO!" Mrs. Brown screamed, rushing forward but she was held back.  
"Oh, calm down, woman," Erik said, walking away. "She's unconscious, not dead."  
"I demand that y-"  
"Demand?"

He whirled around, eyes flashing dangerously.

"No, no no, you do not demand. You either beg or stay silent. Even if you begged I wouldn't really care. What were you going to demand about, madam? That I sail to the nearest port so you and your little friend run around telling the most amazing story of how your demands for freedom scared the Captain Erik Guerrier into actually obliging?"

He laughed.

"For that audacity, madam, you are not going with us as prisoner. Oh no, we'll give you a fate wishing you were the fleas on the rats crawling my ship. Khan!"

A dark skinned man with brilliant jade eyes stepped forward.

"Tie her up and send her adrift."

The man's expression didn't change but he simply nodded and dragged her over to the ship's side where the lifeboat hung ready.

"The rest of you," Erik said, stepping onto the long board between the ships. "You know what to do. It's a merchant ship, meaning surplus cargo. Bring everything valuable on board and burn this ship afterwards."

And he turned and crossed onto his ship, Christine never once stirring on his shoulder.

___________

* * *

_

"Madam, if you will just listen to me," Nadir Khan said quietly, shaking her.

"Why should I listen to a filthy pirate?" Mrs. Brown cried.

Nadir clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Because this filthy pirate is about to help you."

Mrs. Brown stared at him. "Why?"

The Persian just shrugged and undid the knots that tied her wrists together but didn't unravel them.

"Now listen carefully to what I'm going to tell you, madam," he said, getting more rope from the bottom of the small boat and wrapping it around her ankles.

"What are you doing?"

"I said listen, madam," he said, starting to get impatient. "I am meant to row you quite a ways from our ship, anchor the boat and leave you to the mercy of the weather and sea but instead I will help you and you will hopefully survive. Now, I am 'tying' you ankles to make sure you can't struggle, you understand? Your wrists and ankles are actually free but do not move them until it is safe to. When I've rowed far enough, I will swim back to my ship and only when it has disappeared completely from sight can you free yourself. I will make it look like I dropped the oars into the water but I'll leave them here. And have this."  
He reached into his pocket and handed her a small wooden compass.

"Row as far as you can north eastwards and hopefully you manage to travel 20 miles into the shipping lanes."

She was stunned but couldn't help but ask, "What if I don't?"

Nadir shook his head. "I would think positively, madam."

___________

* * *

_

Erik laid Christine on his bed then kept his hands either side of her as he studied her more carefully.

She was indeed a beautiful girl, he had noticed that when he first saw her and again when he scrutinised her on the deck of her ship but up close, and the golden candlelight illuminating her features, she struck him speechless.

Exquisite, he thought. The perfect and only word to describe her.

His hand acted of its own accord and gently brushed stray brown curls from her face, softly tracing the curve of her lips and skimming over the delicate beauty spot on her right cheekbone.

He jumped back as if he'd been scalded.

What was he doing? Where had this foppish caressing come from?  
Sure he was stunning but it wasn't as if he'd never seen a gorgeous woman before.  
Hell, there was one in his crew right now!

He stared at her again, recalling the fire that burned in her eyes when she spoke back to him- fire probably induced from fear and panic but fire that nonetheless hinted at a passionate nature.

Was that what he found so alluring? The clash of that hidden passion and exceedingly innocent aura?  
No, it couldn't be. He'd just been out at sea too long and she was the first woman apart from his cousin that he'd seen-

"What are you doing?"

He spun around to the source of the voice and saw it was the girl that he'd just been thinking of.

"Meg," he said, surprised. When had she learned to move so quietly?  
"I was just-"

The blonde moved past him and sat on the bed, looking at the sleeping brunette's face.

Meg looked at him with a sceptically raised brow.

Erik raised his brow in return.

"My intentions were nothing less than honourable."  
"And I'm meant to believe such words coming from a pirate?"  
"Yes, considering you're one yourself."  
"I can hardly call myself one when you don't even let me go with you on raids. And anyway, I am a woman and therefore have better self control."  
"I object."  
"She's coming with me, dear cousin."  
"And who says so? She's a captive!"  
"I do," and she proceeded to lift the much taller, unconscious girl. "And if she was a prisoner, why haven't you thrown her in the brigs?"

He was silent then decided to ignore her statement and tried a new tactic.

"Margaret Claudia Giry, I order you to put her down."

Meg groaned. "I told you never to call me that! God, I hate that name...And I am doing this to save her from a disgusting fate."

"You dare imply that I'd use her as a whore? Tell me again why I don't shoot you?"

"Because you love me, really. Come, tell me, Erik, what you and the rest of the crew did the last time we came docked?"

Erik sighed, knowing what she was getting at, and walked into his study, pretending to ignore her.

"Exactly," Meg went on, now at the door. "By the time you all came back you reeked of drink and whore. I was almost choking."

"Pity it didn't work..."

She rolled her eyes and shut the door, leaving him alone.

He stared at the bed thoughtfully.  
He certainly had no intention of using her just for her body, even if he did desire her.  
There was something about her that made him respect her, as well as triggering something he never felt in all of his 35 years.  
He'd killed, used, tortured and scared women before- much to Meg's disgust- so why had he chosen to bring her into his room for safekeeping instead?  
He groaned, shook his head and practically ran up to the deck, needing a distraction and to see if his crew had finished the job so they could leave already.

___________

* * *

_

Two hours after that damned pirate ship disappeared, Mrs. Brown was exhausted, hungry, scared and quickly losing hope.

She was thankful the moon shone brightly as her lamp but, as the Masked Captain predicted, she did wish she was at least on their ship.

Despite the night and cool sea breeze, her hair and clothes clung to her thanks to the humid Atlantic air.

The Persian informed her the tide should be going into the shore and should she fall asleep it would be safe that she didn't float to some unknown place.

"Well I just hope he's right," she muttered, gathering the oars in the boat and trying to get as comfortable as she could on the gently rocking wooden vessel.

____________

* * *

please review! i got quite a few hits for the last chapter but please, reviews make me jumpily happy!

m


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys! again, sorry for the delay. I had a bit of a writer's blog and didn't get too many chances on the laptop, but here we are. And say hello to the Baron Louis d'Etienne!  
...dont. i was being sarcastic.

anyhooo, on with the story!

* * *

Chapter 3

Baron Louis d'Etienne leant back on his chair, the picture if ease with his feet up on the desk, arms resting on the sides of the chair with a glass of wine in his hand.

He drained the glass and sat up properly.

On the right of his desk was the tray of his finished lunch and resting against the oil lamp beside that was the stack of the mouth-watering Miss Daaé's letters.

He chuckled as he re-read the latest one she sent from a month ago.

In it she mentioned she was coming back today as well as that puzzling tone that implied she didn't seem to want to see him.

He scoffed. Who wouldn't _want_ to see him. Honestly.

He looked out of the window of his private yacht.

Christine was coming back on one of her father's merchant ships and since they had a unique symbol on the sails, he'd been hoping to meet the ship halfway and offer her a ride home in his much more luxurious boat.

She won't be able to resist once she sees the fine quality, he smirked.

He turned and looked over to his bed, the covers still tangled from his last encounter with a delicious creature he'd lured.  
That'll be Christine soon, he smiled, standing and putting his jacket on.

* * *

"So, Captain, any sign of Daaé's ship yet?" Louis asked amiably, leaning on the edge.

Captain Dawson adjusted his cap and shook his head.

"It's getting really crowded now, my lord," he said. "Merchant ships coming in and out but no sign of the one you're looking for."

"Hmph."

Louis looked around; there were ships wherever he looked, all coming dangerously close.

He needed space.

"Captain, sail outside this traffic and just hover around until we spot Daaé's ship. It should be easier then, no gigantic ships blocking our way."  
"Yes, m'lord."

Once they sailed a fair way from the shipping lanes, Louis grabbed the telescope from Dawson and peered through it.  
Dawson scowled at the back of his blonde head.  
Nope, Louis thought, sweeping the clear horizon. No damn ship.  
He thrust the telescope back to the Captain and started to walk back to his cabin.  
"Call me when you see them," he said with a wave of his hand.

Dawson rolled his eyes.

"I used to be a First Class Commodore," he mumbled, raising the spy-glass to his eye. "Now I'm reduced to steering boats for spoilt rich bo- What the hell is that?"

He focused in on the spot.

Whatever it was, it was barely visible on the waves, floating as if it was lying on something...

He gasped.

"Man overboard!"

He ran to the helm and spun the wheel, catching the wind perfectly to propel them forward.

* * *

_A 30-year-old, newly widowed Mrs. Brown knocked nervously on the door of the mansion. Her previously fine dress was now ripped and caked with mud at the hemline, her hair half down from the lack of pins stolen from her.  
The white door opened to reveal a sneering butler.  
"Yes?" he said coldly.  
"I-I was wondering whether you-your master needed a maid or cook or-"  
"No, we've a full staff."  
_"_Oh, um, then have you-"  
"No."  
And the door was slammed in her face.  
She crumbled on the doorstep, sobbing into her hand.  
She didn't know what to do! If she didn't get a job soon, she'd be forced to go to the workhouse and if not...  
"Madam?" a gentle, American accented voice said, nudging her shoulder slightly.  
"Madam?"  
_"Madam?

She opened her eyes and closed them again, the light of the midday sun blinding her.  
"She's awake! Get a drink or something!"  
The calm voice of Gabriel Daaé was gone, replaced by a loud brogue.  
"Madam, can you hear me?"  
"...mm.."

"What is this?"

Her eyes flew open.

She knew that voice! That smooth, slightly French lilt, with the arrogant undertone.

"Baron!"

Louis stared down at the woman.

How the hell did she know him? Well, okay, it wasn't a surprise. He _was_ Louis d'Etienne.

He looked closely at the woman; she was familiar but he couldn't place where he'd seen her.  
He'd certainly never...

"Baron!" Mrs. Brown said, standing quickly, ignoring how the movement made the world spin.  
"Baron, you must help her! Miss Christine! She's-she's been-"  
"Christine? Oh!"

The woman was Christine's nurse, chaperone, or whatever.  
Yes, the reason he could never _really_ charm her.

"Where's Christine?"

"Sir, she's been taken! Our ship was attacked last night by pirates! They killed the whole crew, burned our ship, and the poor miss..."

Louis swallowed; she was gone? No no no, that couldn't happen.  
She'd proven a challenge, yes, by refusing him, but she was one of the few women who didn't seem empty-headed and vain.  
She was feisty, and he liked it.  
Not to mention she was unbelievably gorgeous, and one way or another he was going to have her.

Perhaps, if he saved her, she'd run into his arms and thank him for being her saviour and her parents would definitely approve him then.  
_  
"Oh thank you, thank you so much, m'lord! We were so afraid she'd be harmed! Oh, how could we ever repay you?"  
_  
He smirked. Well...

"Madam," he said kindly. "Do you have any idea at all who the pirates were?"

Mrs. Brown sniffed and thought back.  
_  
...blood...shouting...the white of the mask...  
_  
"...Erik."

"What was that, madam?"

"That was their captain. Erik...Erik...Guerrier."

Captain Dawson shivered.

"Pff. Erik? Nothing gaudy like 'Erik the Fierce' or 'Mephistopheles' Son'? How boring . Can you imagine? 'Captain! Captain! We're being attacked!''What? By whom?' 'Erik!'"

He laughed at his own joke; Captain Dawson paled and Mrs. Brown was furious.

The crew were torn between smirking and shuddering in fear of the name.

"Um, sir," Captain Dawson nudged. "Have you not heard of the Guerriers?"  
"Why, should I?"  
"Sir, they've been one of the most feared pirates since the 13th century. Even Blackbeard himself stayed clear of them."  
"Oh come now, this shouldn't be too hard. I know a lot of Navy men and merchants and...others...I'll have them look out for her and we'll have her back safe and sound in no time at all."

Mrs. Brown's eyes lit up.

"You'll help her?"  
"I will try my very best, madam. For now, I suggest you rest while we go back ashore and tell the Daaés at once. And you can tell us what happened to you."  
"Yes, sir. And thank you, thank you very much. I just pray the poor dear'll stay safe."  
"Yes, yes. Show her a spare cabin, Joseph."

"But, sir," Dawson said after the woman had gone. "You don't know what you're saying. The Guerriers are very elusive and I've heard that this Erik Guerrier is worse than his father. Killed all his brothers just so he can get the best ship and the inheritance."

Hmm, Louis thought. What a coincidence...

"You underestimate me, Dawson. And as I recall, I hired you as a captain for my yacht, not my adviser. Remember your place and take us home."

Dawson tried not glare but nodded.  
Fine, he thought. Go ahead and pursue a pirate. Your fault if you end up at the bottom of the sea, strapped to some cannon.

* * *

yes, i made you guys wait that long for a short, totally non-erik/christine chapter. i wasn't too happy with this chapter but believe it or not, this is a fairly pivotal bit so keep reading!  
maybe if i get a few reviews i'll make christine wake up in the next chapter...So please review! i was so happy to see i had loads of hits from different countries in the last chapter so thanks to all who read!

m


End file.
